Un-Break My Heart
by Lindt Luirae
Summary: He's beautiful like all broken things are, in all the ways they could be mended, in their complexity, in their contrasting fragility and resilience. And Sakura never learned how to not love broken things. [KakaSaku]


_When you love someone__ in all the ways that break you_

_In all the ways that make you whole_

_Only then will you really understand_

_What it's like to lose pieces of yourself_

_Only to find new ones that complete you_

**(i) the beginning of the fall**

At first it's the gentle nudge of a wayward thought. The what if. Like an iridescent butterfly fluttering its wings at you in playful calling— just out of touch, oh-so-pretty, and then it flitters away. You don't miss it. But occasionally you remember it.

It starts like all great love stories start. When you least expect them to happen. And Sakura, after a past roughened with loss, no longer thinks she deserves love. She doesn't see it coming... but maybe she should have.

Surely the shadow that looms just out of sight, caught in her peripheral, is a sign that she is never alone. And isn't that what always scared her? Winding up old and devoid of joy, so far away from the entire world?

She wonders about him, when her thoughts spiral down this bleak road. Because he seems so alone, all the time. She doesn't know if it's entirely by choice or if circumstance has forced him into isolation, but she doesn't recall a time in which Kakashi, her ex-sensei, hadn't been secluded with a book in hand and the world held at an arm's length. Perhaps friendship scares him. Perhaps he's lost many, and doesn't stand the thought of losing more.

It starts with a wayward thought. A desperate one of comfort: _if I end up alone I'll have him. _She can't imagine Kakashi ever changing after all; Kakashi is the one constant in her life, now that she thinks about it.

Throughout her career, everyone changed yet he remained the same.

**(ii) the stumble**

The stumble is a mental stutter. The culmination of everything in a startling conclusion. The way you fail to notice how someone has invaded your life bit by bit, in small ways that end up big, so that when you do notice it, it's nothing short of a smack in the face.

When Sakura had begun to spend more time with Kakashi, it was out of guilt. Surely no one liked to be that lonely and maybe Kakashi just didn't know how to reach out.

He never rejected her company, so she had no reason to doubt whether her presence was welcome or not.

Sometimes they spend the afternoon lazing together under the shade of a tree, surrounded by his dogs and reading quietly, never talking, but taking comfort in the shared tranquility of peace and companionship.

Some other times they finds themselves in a tea shop, Kakashi sipping tea and Sakura munching on dango. On the odd day, Kakashi might share a story from his past, about interesting missions and places he's been to, foreign foods he'd sampled and remarkable people he's met. She sinks into the languid cadence of his voice and the unfamiliar nostalgia that colours it; she finds it inviting, the way those little shreds of him soften his rougher edges.

There are times they meet on the Hokage mountain, never on purpose, but always when it seems they both need the company of each other most. Kakashi always has been, and probably always will be, a recluse. She'd call them friends, tentatively, but even then Kakashi never made to seek her out when he feels down.

It's his eyes, she thinks, that gives him away. The melancholy that touches at those dark irises, somehow making a home for itself. It doesn't disturb his outward aura, but it simmers there quietly, like it's begging Sakura to unravel it. Pick him apart piece by piece and then put him back together so that it aches less.

She knows Kakashi is haunted by the demons of his past, that he has been alone long enough they had sunk into his skin and burrowed in the cracks of his soul. She cannot untangle them from him; she gets the impression that they are one in the same now.

On those days she sits next to him in silence until he's ready to talk. He's not always inclined to share, but she doesn't mind, it's not her business to pry.

When he opens up, he speaks of a childhood paved with pain. And Sakura cannot help but ache for him in all the ways her heart knows how, in all the ways she craves healing the jagged pieces of a man with dark eyes.

So Sakura doesn't really see it, the way her thoughts rearrange themselves to wrap around this man. It seems only natural that she'd care for a friend, especially one that needed it. About his health, mental and physical, his diet, his emotional stability.

She tries not to be obvious about— what if he pushed her away like Sasuke did before him?

Sakura doesn't want to torment him, but her curse in this world is that she cares too much.

It's only when she goes shopping one day and stops at the eggplant stall to contemplate making Kakashi his favorite dish, and subsequently thinks of what kind of other meals he might enjoy, that the mental stutter happens.

It seems silly, to come to a shattering realisation in the middle of such a mundane task. But it's the fact that those thoughts of Kakashi had become so frequent she stopped wondering about them that gives Sakura a pause.

And she did think about him often, did she not? Waking up in the morning with the thought of hanging out, making meals with the thought of sharing them, buying a book she knows he'll inevitably steal and picking a genre they both would enjoy. It's those little things— hearing a joke and thinking he'd appreciate it, going on a mission and wishing he was there... Sakura doesn't realise, until then, standing in the middle of the busy market with a vegetable clutched in hand, that she had intertwined her life with Kakashi's without even noticing it.

**(iii) the spiral**

Perhaps she should have seen it coming. At least when Kakashi began to open up about himself.

There's something quietly beautiful about Kakashi, that she has no name for. Maybe it's the way he smiles even when his eyes are sad, like he's doing it for her benefit instead of his. Maybe it's the way he listens silently, raptly, even when he pretends he is not— like he's afraid of caring, but can't help it. Or maybe it's the sweet way his voice dips when he's serious about something, like he's afraid the world would know and condemn him for it.

Sakura thinks maybe it's all these things, but mostly, she thinks, perhaps it's the little ways in which he leaves himself vulnerable to her despite all the ways he's been hurt in the past. That small show of trust, of bravery, of— of his willingness to get hurt in the process, like he's too used to it he doesn't care.

He's beautiful like all broken things are, in all the ways they could be mended, in their complexity, in their contrasting fragility and resilience.

And Sakura never learned how to not love broken things.

**(iv) shattering**

It starts like all great love stories do, slowly, and then all at once.

Sakura doesn't know how to love quietly, from the shadows, like he does. When the inevitable spiral takes her down an abyss of possibility, she's helpless against pursuing them.

Kakashi is many things. But she doesn't think a lover is one of them. He's way too jaded, wrapped in a million layers, ever afraid, even if he doesn't show it. But hell, she can't stop herself from trying.

It's a want that settles in her stomach, a pulsing little thing that winds her muscles in anticipation. A fluttery, anxious feeling in her chest that spreads over her whole body. It's consuming— the harder she tries to squash it down the more it fights her, takes over her.

And she's completely taken by it, the giddiness of making him chuckle, the excitement of sharing something new with him, the warmth that takes over her when his bearing lightens in her presence.

Sometime she aches in her heart so profoundly, from longing and happiness and sadness, that she wants to tuck him against it in hopes it'll quieten down.

Maybe he knows—surely he sees it somewhere in her eyes, they've always been so expressive. Or maybe he notices it in the flush of her cheeks, or in the ways the proximity between them diminishes with every encounter.

He never says a thing. Like maybe he's willing to take whatever she's willing to give, no matter how little. She knows this because sometimes his gaze lingers on her mouth, like he's curious, or longing, only to flit away quickly as if he's afraid of wanting more than he thinks he can have. She knows this because when she leans against him, he leans against her, like he doesn't mind the way she invades his space, like maybe he soaks up the warmth of her side against his the way she does with him.

She knows, because Kakashi's eyes aren't so sad when she is around.

Sakura never learned how to love quietly, the way she knows he loves her, even when he might not be entirely sure what love really is like. But she thinks that's alright, she would teach him in time.

**(v) the fight**

Sakura always knew he'd resist it. Because Kakashi too, doesn't think he deserves love.

He tells her she's crazy to love someone like him— how could she? There's nothing _to_ love. He's just _him_, scars and battles and a weary heart. He'd break her, he knows it.

And that's what pains her the most, not his rejection, not really, but the way he shuts himself away because he thinks he's unworthy of being loved by her.

Sakura who spent weeks and months losing pieces of herself to him, getting unravelled by all the little things that made him Kakashi that no one else saw, sinking further down this road with no return... it's not fair, that he doesn't see the way she's helpless to stop those feelings.

He doesn't quite avoid her. Maybe he tries, and fails. She thinks he might be battling with himself, because he disappears for a day only to appear the next, so full of silent apologies but helpless to leave.

It's hard to watch.

"Why are you doing this?" She asks him, after she's exhausted all the ways she could convince him he deserves more out of this life than he's been lead to believe.

"Doing what?" He deflects, flipping to the next page of the newest book she's making him read.

"You know what." It's hard to say, because his rejection had stung, and despite the fact that Sakura didn't give up, sometimes the shame is too great. "You know... I'm just..."

He looks up because she's floundering, and he's never heard her this uncertain when talking about her feelings.

"It can't be just you." She finally settles. "Surely it's me? Why can't you just be straight with me and— I don't know. Admit you don't want _me_."

Perhaps it's cruel to guilt-trip him that way. She knows that's not how he feels, but sometimes doubt rears its ugly head and she can't help but think that maybe she's misread his every action.

Kakashi lowers the book, his hand slack. He blinks at her, like he's trying to decipher something utterly complicated, or stupid, or both.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to watch her like he'd trying very hard to understand what she just said, Sakura carries on.

"I mean, maybe this is weird to you? Do you still see me as a little girl or something? I'm twenty-two you know. Or are you not— not attracted to me? That's completely fine by the way! It's understandable. I know I'm not curvy or necessarily pretty or anything. But we get along really well you know? I wish you'd just tell me why you really won't let us try—" she's not looking at him anymore, which is why she doesn't notice when he leans closer, a hand curving around her cheek.

She halts, breath catching in her throat.

"You're so _painfully_, _unbearably_ unbelievable." He says, slowly.

Sakura can't look away from the tornado of emotions she spies—his eyes are so beautiful. The sunset dances over them, lights them up, and she's forgotten her breath somewhere in her lungs.

The hand on her cheek is incredibly warm, it sends tingles seeping deep into her bones. His thumb flutters over her cheekbone, slowly, unsurely.

Sakura's heart is beating so fast she's nearly trembling. Her eyes flutter shut under the intensity of the emotion, tries to will it to slow down. But she's hyper aware of him, his every breath, his every move.

"You're beautiful Sakura," he murmurs, the words thick and unfamiliar on his tongue; it's a hot ghost over her skin, heavy and tangible like the lost space between them.

He's never complimented her before, and she's embarrassed at the way her body shivers in pleasure.

She senses his trepidation before she feels him move closer, and she knows what's about to happen before it does. But regardless of that, her body seizes up completely when she feels his lips on hers, bare, warm and soft.

So hesitant, and tentative, but gaining courage with every passing second, with every press of lips together. Sakura exhales heavily through her nose, wants to pull him closer and never let go, but as soon as she begins to sink into him he pulls away.

She opens her eyes to find that he's no longer looking at her, his mask back in place.

Something about him looks like it's about to shatter, barely held together at the seams.

She wishes it would.

"It's not you." He says firmly, grabbing his book again. There's a minute tremble in his fingers he can't hide. "It's absolutely not you."

She can't say anything, for long, long hours after that.

**(vi) acceptance**

That kiss opened doors and shut others. It's strange, she thinks, that he doesn't avoid her. He's right there, just an arm's length away, always; it makes her wonder if perhaps he's accepted the inevitability of his own feelings, and the fact that hers were here to stay.

But it's a little like torture, the way she still tastes him on her lips. The vivid memory of his fingers on her cheek, and his words whispered against her mouth. It's all she can think about, most of the time— all the time.

The first time she holds his hand, she's so close to falling apart under the weight in her chest. Because she wants him so badly, wants to be close to him, to love him the way he deserves, that she thinks it might crush her.

Perhaps he notices that, because he lets her.

She laces their fingers together, determined to keep him right there next to her and can't believe the kind of way it makes her feel to have his palm pressed against her own, his stuttering pulse against her wrist.

"Just try," she beseeches him, and expects a rejection.

"Okay." He says after a pause, voice cracking. "Okay, Sakura."

**(vii) the ever after **

In the end, it is like all great love stories in many ways: that it's not perfect, and definitely not easy.

It's full of ups and downs, falls that bruise and some broken promises that sting.

But it's worth it at the end of the day, because she thinks she's made to love him, and he crawls back to her like he's forgotten how to stay away.

And there's this thing about happiness, that people crave, and once they have it, they can't let it go.

It's a story, like many others, about compromise and patience and discovery. Finding self-worth, learning to love, to accept and to grow.

It's the tale of two lonely people coming together; pink hair and dancing green eyes and soft hands and the way they softened the sharp edges of a scarred man.

* * *

Kakashi is loved and loved and loved, and eventually, he accepts that too.


End file.
